


I Will Come Back

by mustachio



Series: Jump the Bone AU [2]
Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Temporary Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:44:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3671205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustachio/pseuds/mustachio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manolo was supposed to live. Xibalba took that away from him. The least the gods can do is give him one day a year to be with the ones he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Come Back

Manolo’s heart beats too hard in his chest as he approaches the Mondragon house.

Joaquín hated this place after his mother left. It was too big—too quiet, he’d said. Even so, after hiding here so often in the aftermath of his fights with his father, it still felt like a second home to Manolo. The door knob is cool under his hand. He doesn’t try to open the door. Manolo stares down at his hand. It’s strange to see skin there. After two years of having nothing but his clothes to cover his body, he’d almost forgotten how much better skin looks over bones.

Two years. It’s been two years since he’s seen the loves of his life. The weight of his wedding band reminds him that two years ago he’d left for the Land of the Remembered with the promise of Joaquín and María’s unending love. It also reminds him that a lot can change in two years. Especially when you aren’t around for the ones you love.

He shakes his head and looks back up at the house. The windows are dark. No one seems to be making any sort of noise inside. He grips the doorknob a little tighter to keep his hands from shaking. What if they aren’t here? They hadn’t been last year. He can’t be upset with them for that, of course. How were they to know that he would be allowed to come back every Day of the Dead? He hadn’t even known until minutes before La Muerte had brought him up. According the Rodriguez brothers, Joaquín and María had already been gone for eleven months by that point.

“They said it didn’t feel right to be in San Angel without you,” Pepe had said. “So they left.”

None of the brothers could tell him when they were supposed to return, if ever. None of the others he’d spoken to could tell him either. Not that many people were willing to speak to a dead man. No amount of explaining the circumstances could change that.

Manolo shakes his head. He’ll never find out if they ever returned if he just stands outside the door. When the doorknob turns with the twist of his wrist, Manolo feels a small sense of victory bloom in his chest. Already that’s an improvement from last year. He couldn’t even get in the house at that time. When he’s inside he has to squint to see where he’s going. The windows are too small to let much moonlight brighten up the room so he walks across the room to, taking care to avoid bumping into anything.

As his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, Manolo takes a moment to take in the changes that have been made since the last time he’s been here. On one wall hangs a picture of Joaquín carrying María on his back. Her arms are wrapped around his neck and she’s kissing his cheek. Joaquín has a wide, goofy grin on his face. They look every bit as happy as he’d always wanted the two of them to be with or without him so he burns the image into his mind to think back on even when he’s gone. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders who they got to take that picture, but it’s so far back the question might as well have not even crossed his mind.

There are a few pictures of all three of them when they were kids. Most of the pictures of Joaquín’s family that used to hang on the walls are gone. The picture he lingers on the longest is the one of him. It’s the portrait that used to hang in the Matador chapel. He can’t imagine why they would want that. His smile is crooked and uncomfortable. He hadn’t wanted to have it done at all and it shows. It’s the worst picture of himself he’s ever seen. Then again, to his knowledge, it’s also the most recent picture of him in existence.

He continues on down the familiar path to Joaquín’s room. Even as he gets closer he can’t seem to pick up on any indication of life in this house. He moves as quietly as he can, not looking to wake either of them up if they are here and they’re just sleeping.

Or at least that’s what he intends to do. He manages to do it right up until he’s halfway up the stairs and hears someone’s loud snoring in the direction he’s headed. Without thinking about what he’s doing, he runs to his destination.

The door to Joaquín’s room is wide open, giving him a clear view of the bed and its occupants. Joaquín is in the middle of the bed, arms sprawled out in both directions. His eye patch is on the night stand closest to Manolo and his heart lurches in his chest when he sees the scar over Joaquín’s eye. María is half on top of him. The steady rise and fall of Joaquín’s chest lifts her head up and down with it while her legs tangled in his. Her hair is loose and spread out behind her. María snores again. It’s one of the most unattractive sounds Manolo has ever heard her make and he couldn’t love it more if he wanted to. There’s some drool coming out of her mouth and falling onto Joaquín.

Manolo slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle the relieved laugh that bubbles up in his chest. A few tears make their way out of his eyes and he does nothing to stop them. They’re here. After two years Joaquín and María are finally more than a memory.

He rushes to the edge of the bed, falling onto his knees as soon as he gets there. He takes one of Joaquín’s hands in his, pressing kisses to each knuckle, and then reaches for María’s to do the same. María stirs as soon as he touches her. He pulls his hand back, not wanting to wake her up, but it’s too late. Her eyes flutter open although they’re still clouded with exhaustion.

“Manolo?” She whispers.

“Shh, go back to sleep. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

María doesn’t listen. Of course she doesn’t listen. This is María, after all. She has never done anything anyone has asked of her. She blinks a few times until her eyes focus and she can see him clearly. When she sits up, Manolo realizes that she’s naked. He moves to turn away, but María is too quick for him.

“You came back!” She whisper-yells and then brings their lips together.

She tastes like candy and morning breath, a hint of wine from dinner the night before—he assumes—and something unique to María. The kiss is short, but that’s just fine. It’s followed by more, just as short, but no less loving kisses. Manolo matches her kiss for kiss. It feels like he’s addicted to her mouth. He can’t believe he forgot how wonderful it is to kiss María. He rests one hand at her hip, rubbing small circles in the warm skin there. María, though from what Manolo can’t be certain of yet. When they pull away the final time, María shifts her attention to Joaquín. She shakes him in an attempt to get him to wake up, but all he does is swat her hands away.

“One more hour, María. I’m too tired for exercises right now.” Joaquín mumbles, turning his face to bury it in the pillow.

“Exercises?” Manolo asks.

“If he wants to learn kung fu, he has to do the exercises I tell him to do.”

Manolo smiles and rolls his eyes. He turns his head to look at Joaquín who seems to have fallen back asleep.

“Let’s let him sleep for now, María.” He squeezes her hip. “I’ll be here all day.”

The excited smile María had falters just enough for Manolo to notice it. She ignores him in favor of continuing to shake Joaquín awake. Manolo watches her. He feels a little ashamed when he finds his gaze wandering from her hands at Joaquín’s shoulder down her body. She’s beautiful—she’s always been beautiful, but this is different. He can see everything now.

“Joaquín, wake up. Manolo is here!”

Manolo looks back at Joaquín.

“What?” The soldier rubs his eyes, sitting up slowly.

His mind is still mostly asleep. María’s words don’t fully process in Joaquín’s head until he can bring himself to open his eyes and even then he isn’t convinced he’s not seeing things. Manolo threads his fingers though Joaquín’s, squeezing to let him know his eyes aren’t playing tricks on him. Joaquín looks from Manolo to María, who looks equally as amazed as Joaquín. Joaquín looks at him with wide eyes. It makes the unnatural whiteness of the blind eye more pronounced, but Manolo manages to not focus on it.

“You came back.” Joaquín whispers.

“So did you.” Manolo says. “You guys weren’t here last year.”

He doesn’t mean to make them feel bad when he says that. Guilt washes over their faces anyway.

“You were here?” Joaquín asks.

Manolo nods. “I’m allowed to come back every Day of the Dead.”

“We’ll just have to make up for last year today.” María cuts in.

Manolo looks up at her with a smile. He moves to get up off the floor and sit on the edge of the bed. Once he does María wastes no time in pulling in him by his tie for another kiss. Joaquín watches them with unconcealed interest.

“The three of us never did get to have a wedding night.” She says against his lips.

Joaquín takes Manolo’s tie from María’s hand to pull him in for a kiss of his own.

“I think we’ve all waited long enough for that.” Joaquín’s breath is hot against Manolo’s skin. “What do you say, Manolo?”

“This is our first anniversary together.” He says. “What better occasion is there to finally have our wedding night on?”

Manolo is certain his clothes have never been removed so quickly in his life.

****

Manolo wakes up sandwiched between Joaquín and María. María is dangerously close to the edge of the bed so he wraps his arm around her and pulls her close to keep her from falling off. On his other side, Joaquín is taking up most of the space. He’s sprawled out as much as he can be with two other people in bed with him and Manolo has half a mind to push him further to the edge, but it isn’t too uncomfortable yet. They’re pressed close together and it’s nice. Two years away and only one day to make up for lost time makes personal space undesirable.

Something twinges in his lower abdomen, bringing him out of his sleepy reverie. He frowns. That’s something he hasn’t felt in a while.

Joaquín wraps his arm around Manolo’s waist and pulls him closer so they’re chest to back and, more distractingly, crotch to ass. Joaquín bumps his nose against Manolo’s ear and presses a kiss to his cheek. He says nothing at first so Manolo turns his head to catch Joaquín’s lips with his.

“What’s wrong?” Joaquín asks.

“I have to pee.”

For a moment, Joaquín looks like he’s trying to hold back laughter. In the next moment he gives up all pretenses of trying to hold it back and laughs quietly at Manolo.

“So go.”

“I’m too comfortable.” There’s a hint of a whine in Manolo’s voice.

María turns in his arms. She puts a finger to her lips and makes a ‘shhh’ noise, but their noise level makes no difference at this point. She’s already awake.

“G’morning.” She mumbles.

Joaquín lays his head on Manolo’s so that their cheeks are pressed together. Manolo makes a weak attempt at shoving him off. It fails, of course. Joaquín weighs too much for such a sad attempt.

“Good morning.” They both say back to her.

Picking his head up off Manolo, Joaquín leans across him so that he can kiss María. His head goes right back on Manolo’s when the kiss ends so Manolo has to pout until María adjusts herself to his level to kiss him, too.

“What are we going to do today?” Manolo asks when she pulls away.

“I was thinking we could spend the day reenacting last night.” There’s a purr in Joaquín’s voice as he runs his hand down Manolo’s chest.

Manolo swats it away and makes another attempt at pushing Joaquín off. This time it works. Joaquín rolls off so that his back is against the bed again, leaving Manolo free to sit up so that he can look at both of them. María follows him up, leaning most of her weight against his side.

“I don’t want to spend all day in bed.” He says.

“You should play something for us.” María suggests.

A brief moment of silence follows as Manolo considers that. Most of the songs he’s written in the last two years have been for them. It will be a waste if he doesn’t play at least one song for them before his time in the land of the living is up.

“Where is my guitar?” The one he had in the Land of the Remembered had been left there.

His fingers itch with the thought of playing the guitar María had given him again. After he left that one with them, he’d had to get a new one in the Land of the Remembered. He wishes he knew what had happened to the one that would have been left with his body when he died. Had that somehow been same the one to come with him to the Land of the Remembered? Or were they different? Was there another, identical guitar somewhere here in the Land of the Living? It’s something he’s never been able to figure out.

“In the closet.” María says.

She runs her hands over his stomach. Her touch tickles and his skin twitches under it. Joaquín traces his fingers along the lines of the muscles in Manolo’s thigh. Neither of them makes a move to get his guitar and he doesn’t particularly want to lose the feeling of their hands on him, but he can’t play without it.

“So…”

“Joaquín go get it.” María demands. When he raises both eyebrows at her she pouts until he sighs in resignation. “You’re closer.”

There’s no need to put clothes on just to go a few feet away so there’s nothing blocking Manolo’s view as he watches Joaquín walk away. Even María giggling into his shoulder doesn’t make him turn away. This might be an everyday sight for her, but Manolo has two years to make up for. He can’t afford to miss a second of it. If María and Joaquín were switched, he’d still be doing the same thing. Manolo doesn’t stop even when Joaquín turns around, just gives him the most shameless grin he can muster until Joaquín shoves the guitar into his hands and gets back into bed.

Manolo strums a few test chords to see how it sounds after so long. It’s nearly perfect. He only needs to do some minor tuning before he can start playing a real song. He gestures to María and Joaquín to sit on the other side of the bed so he can look at both of them. One they’re settled, he starts.

“Words don’t come easy without a melody…”

Manolo plays the song like it’s second nature to him. He’s practiced so often at this point tha the doesn’t have to pay close attention to what he’s doing to know he’s doing it right. All he has to do is let his heart take control and everything should turn out okay. So he keeps his attention on the people he loves most in any world. María is biting her lips and her eyes have gone glossy with unshed tears. She and Joaquín are gripping each other’s hands tightly. Joaquín’s breathing is noticeably shaky. He keeps blinking rapidly like he’s trying to get something out of his eyes, but it’s just not working.

“I’m looking for some harmony, with you it comes so naturally…”

His heartbeat sounds like thunder to his own ears. Playing for them again is overwhelming and only now that he’s nearing the end of the song does he worry that maybe they won’t like it. That fear is ridiculous, of course. Their reactions are very clear. There’s no uncertainty or negativity to be found anywhere in their body language or expressions.

“You’re my favorite song.”

Before the last few notes can even fade into the air, Joaquín and María are on him. Manolo is all too happy to let them have their way with him.

****

They spend most of the day walking around town. Joaquín and María point out some of the small changes that have been made since Manolo has been gone. He takes those in quietly. It’s strange—a little more upsetting than he had been anticipating. He takes what few changes there are in stride, staying quietly thankful that most everything is as he remembers it. It’s nice to come back to see his home is still mostly his home.

Manolo walks between Joaquín and María with his guitar in hand. He plays bits and pieces of new songs he’s been working on, but mostly he’s playing whatever comes into his head. At one point he sings a song about Joaquín’s mustache. That even gets a few laughs from a few of the town people around them which is a nice change from the frightened looks they’ve been giving him. He sings about the way María sometimes chews on her hair when she’s thinking and even about Chuy who looks as pleased as a pig can during that one.

The sun begins to set as they walk across the bridge at the gates of the city. Something heavy settles itself in Manolo’s heart as he looks at the reflection of the sunset in the water. His time is almost up. Manolo turns his attention back to Joaquín and María too late to notice that Joaquín has stopped walking and would have ended up in the water had María not held tight to his arm to keep him steady.

“Joaquín?” He asks.

He puts the guitar on his back and rests a hand on Joaquín’s shoulder. María’s eyes are concerned for a moment as she watches Joaquín. Very quickly that concern changes to understanding to hurt.

“What is it?” Manolo presses.

María sighs, threading her fingers between Manolo’s.

“This is where we lost you.”

They’re all silent. It had been so easy to forget for a few hours that Manolo is dead. He’s in the Land of the Living for a day long visit, but he isn’t alive. By this time tomorrow he’ll be long gone.

“I wish there was something I could do to make this easier.” Manolo’s voice comes out in a rasp, his throat thick with emotion.

“You could stay.” Joaquín says.

He sounds like a petulant child and he doesn’t care. Joaquín crosses the last of the bridge to make his way to the tree. His back hits it with a little too much force, but he barely feels the physical pain. Manolo and María follow close behind, sitting down on either side of Joaquín.

“You know I would give everything to stay here with you. I would fight Xibalba and La Muerte and every god down there if it meant I could force them to give me my life back. But right now this is all I can get from them and I don’t have the power to stay here on my own.”

Manolo rubs Joaquín’s shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but there isn’t much else he can do. He would love to promise to stay here with them forever. That just isn’t his call to make. He reaches over to take María’s hand so that he has a point of contact with both of them. She lets him take it and rests her head on Joaquín’s other shoulder, tilting it so that she can see both of them.

“I promise I will come back whenever I can.” Manolo says.

 _And I promise to keep fighting to get my life back_ he thinks, but the words won’t form in his mouth. He will fight as hard as he can. That doesn’t mean anything will come of it. He can’t risk getting their hopes up. So he says nothing more and allows silence fall over them, taking comfort in Joaquín and María’s presence as the last of the sunlight fades away.


End file.
